ARCHIVED If It Had Been Me
by Ms. Writeable This
Summary: A shameless self-insert comedy story I started years ago. I still remember writing it out in a composition book during a car ride to the beach. THIS STORY IS ARCHIVED. IT WILL NOT BE UPDATED.
1. Prologue or That Auction Part

We've all thought it at some point or another "If I was Christine I would have…". Well, he's my story. This is what would have happened if things were as they should have been, with me (Victoria) as the object of dear Erik's obsession…instead of dumb Christine.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Phantom or anything having to do with it. That honor goes to Gaston Leroux and the brilliant ALW.

A/N – This is, of course, a bit of a comedy. It's by no means a complete retelling; most likely it will only have ten or so _very_ short chapters. It's not splendidly written, in my opinion, I don't do comedies all that often but I had to indulge in this one. Oh, and it's based mostly off the play…and, in case you wanted to know, my Erik looks like Gerard. Why? Because I can. D

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"Prologue" or "That Auction Part" 

Raoul le Vicomte de Changy, elderly and weak, is wheeled into the old Paris Opera House in the midst of a public auction. Few others are present; among them is Meg Giry, also old. They recognize each other but neither says anything.

_What the hell is __**he**__ doing here? _Thinks the former ballerina, _Hasn't he gotten the hint by now that she __**wasn't interested**__?!? Well, maybe he's gone senile…poor bugger. Good thing she decided against coming…_

Meanwhile the Vicomte, who may or may not be senile, is also thinking.

_Oh my love, if only I could see you again! I would break that demon's trance and wisk you away and guard you and guide you and hide you and…_Suddenly Raoul falls asleep mid-sentence, as some older people tend to, but he quickly wakes. _And I'll talk about summer and we'll go on the roof and play in the snow!_

"Lot 665 then. A papier mache music of a monkey in Persian robes sitting on a barrel organ."

A bidding war ensues between the aged Vicomte de Chagny and Meg Giry. No one is quite sure why they both want the slightly creepy looking toy so much, but they do. In the end Meg lets Raoul win it and the auction continues. Meanwhile Raoul talks to himself,

"A collector's piece indeed, every detail exactly as she said…Oh who am I kidding, she never told me anything. At least I know she was in the same room as this thing at one time…."

"Lot 666 then. A chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange story of the Phantom of the Opera…a mystery never fully explained. We are told that this is the very chandelier that figures in the great tragedy. Parts of it have been wired for the new electric light, perhaps we can scare away the ghost of so many years a go with a little illumination."

There is suddenly a very bright light (apparently the wiring was a little off in the chandelier) and we are plunged fifty years back in time…

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Ok, not great. I'm not really thrilled. But perhaps it will get better? In any case it gives me something to work on when I need a break from my other much better Phantom Phiction.

Please read and review!!!!

Your Obidient Authoress,

M.E.


	2. Hannibal or A Weird Rehearsal

Whoo! Happy New Year!!! After such a lame first chapter let's try our luck with chapter two. Now we'll see that they weren't exactly talking about a naïve Swedish chick...

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"Hannibal" or "Fifty Years Earlier While They're Rehearsing For Something Odd" 

We find ourselves again inside the cavernous Opera Populaire. However, it's just slightly nicer looking now. Not quite so…crumbly. In any case, the place is filled with people in the midst of a rehearsal for…something. We can't be quite sure _what_ as the lead soprano, Carlotta, is "singing" rather incomprehensibly while holding something that looks vaguely like a human head. The rest of the cast soon joins her, including a talented group of ballerinas, all equally ridiculously costumed. It looks like they might need more practice because Carlotta seems to think she needs to remain center stage while the dancers unwittingly tread on her dress.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately depending on how you're looking at it) their rehearsal is interrupted by the appearance of…

"Monsieur Lefevre, I am rehearsing!"

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please. If I can have your attention, thank you. As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire; Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gil Andre."

Right on cue the new managers smile and wave at their new charges. The shorter of the two, Andre, is practically hopping.

Oh, marvelous. Is it that difficult to find managers who can spell opera? Erik is going to be just thrilled…

These are the thoughts of the ballet mistress, Madame Giry, who barely contains a look of disgust while observing the pair of them whom, she is informed, made their fortune selling trash.

"And we pleased to introduce our new patron," Firmin was saying. His friend finished his sentence.

"The Vicomte de Chagny!"

And, in walks the dashing Raoul. Instantly he starts into a speech so obviously rehearsed you might think it was the same one he uses to receive his Greasy Haired Nobleman of the year awards.

"My parents and I are honored to support all of the arts. Especially the world renowned Opera Populaire."

Meanwhile on the other side of the stage…

"Oooo!" squeals little Meg Giry, poking her friend in the back, "Oo look, it's _Raoul_." She pronounces his name as though it's some sort of luxury that no ballet rat should think about. The curly haired girl whom she was addressing, however, is looking in any direction but at the _patron_.

"Really? I didn't notice." She finally replies. The sarcasm of the statement is lost on the younger dancer.

"Come on, get over here, Victoria! He has to see you!" She was shoving her now, trying to move her out of the corner she was in.

"I'd really rather not…"

"Why?!? You were _childhood sweethearts_," again, overemphasized, "Just imagine what he'd say if he saw you!"

"Oh, er…sweethearts? Well…" Victoria shuffles away once more. Then, thankfully, the rich bachelor leaves the building. "Oh, what a shame, he left." A small sigh of relief.

"You should have let him see you! Made a noise to get his attention! I'm sure he's be _thrilled_ to see you!"

Meg may only be two years younger than her friend but she is infinitely more immature. She's never had an admirer, unless you count the odd stagehand, and therefore has no idea as to why her best friend wishes to avoid a boy she was admired by almost ten years earlier.

The rehearsal soon recommences and seems to be running fairly smoothly, until the inevitable happens.

"All they want is the dancing!" whines the prima donna. On the sidelines the new managers discuss the upcoming Gala stating that the Vicomte is "very excited". He, of course, fully convinced everyone of that through his one-minute speech.

"I hope that he is as excited by dancing girls as your new managers. Because _I _will not be singing!"

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Ta Da! I'll leave it there for now.

Happy New Year one and all!

Please read and review!

Your Obedient Authoress,

M.E.


	3. Think of Me or The Ghost Problem

Well, I never said I was a fast updater! Very sorry for the delay…school should be illegal.

First off I'd like to thank the three lovely people who reviewed!!

Shadowxwolf- Thanks! I'm becoming less annoyed with this whole story as I go on. Here's more just like you requested. How could I say no to Erik on top?? D

Melundomiel- Thanks! Happy reading! D

PhanGirl-Baby- Thanks! I will certainly keep writing…though it's taken a while for this chapter. And, to clarify, Gerry-Erik is _my_ Phantom! grabs Gerry-Erik out of her basement to prove it See?? sends him back to the basement to finish composing her birthday song

Now if only more people would be so sweet as to review…perhaps I'd find more time to write??

Oh and, Happy 2008! Erik and I would like to wish you a very happy and musical new year and many more to come! D

Now, we continue on in our story…

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"Think of Me" or "The New Management Finds Out About The Ghost Problem"

Where were we? Oh yes…

And out walks the prima donna. Out the door. Gone. With her doggy. Hours before the gala performance.

The new managers promptly panic.

"What are we going to do?" Andre squeaks.

They look to the previous manager for guidance in such a matter. He instructs them to grovel. They do.

And, thankfully, before they get to kissing her feet, Carlotta agrees to "treat" them to the aria from act 3. Apparently it's supposed to be a tender moment in which the young woman sings to her lover who is leaving…or that's what it would be if you could understand Carlotta's voice; and most people try not to.

However, before she can even get to the crescendo she silenced as a "spontaneously" falling backdrop nearly decapitates her.

"He's here _the Phantom of the Opera_!" whispers Meg Giry hiding behind her friend. Once again, the stress put on the last five words is absolutely unnecessary.

Victoria, meanwhile seems to be about the only person in the general vicinity not in fear for their life. In fact, she pats her hair and looks around with something like anticipation. The oddity of this reaction, however, is lost in the search for the guilty party.

Everyone immediately turns their eyes upwards to find a one Joseph Bouquet hastily pulling up the backdrop in question.

"Don't look at me! As God's my judge I wasn't at my post. Please sir there's no one there. And if there was, well then, it must have been a ghost!"

As it's Joseph Bouquet speaking no one doubts his claim that he wasn't at his post. Drinking? Perhaps. Peeping into the changing rooms of the ballet rats? Very probably. But doing his job? Not likely.

As Firmin saw it, it was quite probable that anyone within earshot might have been the culprit. He had to admit, though it was a dangerous stunt (they really didn't need a dead soprano on their first day) whomever it was had _style_.

Andre, on the other hand, was more preoccupied with Bouquet's last statement. He was a superstitious man. No one had said anything about a ghost. Perhaps he was just speaking figuratively. Drunken stagehand…he hadn't meant a real ghost…of course not.

Meanwhile, Carlotta, after being pulled to her feet, has had more than enough. This time, she's gone before the managers can say anything more than "these things do happen"…which doesn't help much. Being snubbed for dancing girls is one thing, having things dropped on you is quite another.

Again, Andre and Firmin look to Lefevre. Unfortunately the _former_ manager is on his way out the door.

"If you need me I shall be in Australia."

And so, the new managers, find themselves alone. Well, alone except for the hundreds of people looking at them to see what they'll do now.

As the pair of them begin to fret over refunding a full house the ballet mistress interrupts.

"I have a message from the Opera Ghost."

"God in heaven, you're all obsessed!" says Firmin. Andre, conversely, feels knees buckle alarmingly.

"He welcomes you to his opera house,"

"_His_ opera house?!?" Firmin again. Andre feels a sudden urge to sit down.

"He demands that you leave box five empty, for his use. And reminds you that his salary is due."

"His _salary_?!?"

"Monsieur Lefevre used to pay him 20,000 francs a month,"

"_20,000 francs_?!?" Andre's ailment appears to be suddenly cured at the mention of so large a sum.

"Perhaps you can afford more with a vicomte as your patron?"

Madame Giry watches with some amusement as the two of them blubber over the note.

_Absolutely splendid timing, Erik! Now to see if they listen. The shorter one certainly looks frightened enough to comply. But who knows if he'll be able to convince Firmin. If they knew that what they it wasn't exactly a ghost... Well, their loss if they want to ignore him._

It wasn't as though she could really warn them or anything. What could she tell them? That a man, who acts just like a ghost, is living underneath your opera house right now? That he can probably hear every word we're saying and that if you don't listen he'll sneak up behind you and Punjab you? She isn't really aiming to lose her job. Besides, Erik probably wouldn't take too kindly to such an interference…being punjabbed trumps being sacked.

As Firmin tears up the note, proclaiming that none of it matters as they don't have a star, Madame realizes her cue. Her eyes fly towards Victoria who, sensing something of what her ballet mistress is thinking, edges towards the door, avoiding eye contact.

"Victoria could sing it."

"What? A chorus girl? Don't be ridiculous."

Even managers who can't spell opera know a chorus girl can't sing a lead.

Meanwhile, said chorus girl freezes mid step.

"Let her sing for you monsieur. She has been well taught." The old woman continues, yanking the sheepish girl to center stage.

"Really? By whom?"

"I do not know his name, monsieur." Victoria mumbles. It isn't an entirely true statement. She knows perfectly well who it is who sings to her every night, her Angel of Music. However, that sounds just a bit crazier than not knowing her teacher's name, so she refrains.

Well, this is splendid, we've bought ourselves a theater full of crazies. Perhaps it's something in the water…

However, as Lefevre had seemed quite lucid, Firmin knew this was unlikely. Still, he made a mental note to avoid the water all the same.

"Andre this is doing nothing for my nerves."

"Well no. But she's very pretty."

Firmin had to agree, if nothing else they'd have a good looking lead for the night. Which considering the previous circumstances would be quite a change. And, considering quite a few members of the audience were wealthy noblemen, that couldn't be a bad thing.

Victoria, however, promptly blew Carlotta into the next province with a splendid rendition. Instantly she was whisked off to find something in the wardrobe that _wasn't_ Carlotta's size.

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Not quite so funny as the last chapter I don't think…and quite a lot longer!

Anywho, read and review!

Your Obedient Authoress,

M.E.


	4. Think of Me or The Vicomte's Revalation

Erik – _Someone_ has some explaining to do…

Me – Ahem…yeah….what he said. ((glares at Erik))

So this chapter was originally intended to be up one week after the other one… which was, what, a month ago?? ((Sighs)) Well, I never said I was speedy. So here are my excuses:

Sophomore year is EVIL.

Midterms are EVILER.

My AP History teacher is EVILEST.

Catching a virus is EVIL too. (but not quite as evil as Mrs. G-Q)

Annie rehearsals aren't evil…but very time consuming.

Birthday parties are time consuming too….

Reading looong books for English class is fun!…but takes up writing time.

Aaaaaand on top of all this, I'm a slacker…which is also evil. I mean, I try, but I just can't focus.

Erik – You mean you _won't_ focus.

Me – ((glares)) I really do try!

Erik – _I_ never slack…

Me – We aren't all musical geniuses, monsieur.

Aaanywho, I did get very speedy (and kind!) reviews for the last chapter…which made me feel even worse for being so late! Speaking of reviews…

.heart.angel.93 – Gah! I wish I was still in middle school…high school is eviler! Anywho, thanks! D

shadowxwolf – I think you get the award for most faithful reviewer! Not only have you reviewed every chapter of this story you've also reviewed the prologue of my new one!! You get a cookie!! (hands her mask-shaped cookie) D

PhanGirl-Baby – Well, you'll have to wait more because they won't be meeting in this chapter…maybe not the next either! (laughs evilly) Ahem. Anywho, I'll have to think about your request…Erik doesn't usually do commissioned work and he just got through my sweet 16. Isn't that right, love? (Erik- nods exhaustedly) Good thing he doesn't need much sleep…. Oh, and thanks! D

Stateofmind7337 – Thanks! I'm severely grateful for such nice reviews! And thanks for the grammar compliment, as dorky as it sounds I actually really enjoy grammar. Something about it satisfies the OCD in my head. D

Phew! I hope that's everyone! That's getting time consuming too…I think I'll just start making good use of the review reply feature!

Oh, and, one more thing, if anyone is in need of a beta reader I'd be happy to oblige!

Erik – You just got through saying how busy you are!

Me – I know…but this will help with _school_. Aaaand give me an excuse to be online! (i.e. – "But Mom, I have a _commitment_ to these people!" )

Like I said to stateofmind7337, I like grammar! I've always liked beta reading for people but there's no specific page for it on here (as far as I've found). Anywho, just a thought. If you're interested just head to my profile and drop me a line! )

Now we continue on with our slightly altered saga of the Opera Populaire…

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"Think of Me (verse 2)" or "The Vicomte Has A Revelation" 

We pick up three hours later…

After much searching, a dress has indeed been found that actually isn't Carlotta's. That is, a dress that her understudy can slip into without slipping out of the other end. In any case, as I said, three hours have past and under the watchful eye of Madame Giry, Victoria has been transformed into a prima donna. (Physically…not mentally, mind you)

Meanwhile, Carlotta has parked her carriage outside. Perhaps she has attachment issues and really didn't want to leave the opera house on such an important night. Perhaps she intended to come back because she "forgot something" and watch the blithering idiots that Lefevre hired beg some more. Or perhaps she just didn't want to have to go home and look at Piangi all night. (I'm stuck between the last two…) Whatever the reason, there she is. But she's not really doing anything interesting so we return to Victoria.

As the hordes of people who have been poking and prodding her finally file out she gazes at her reflection in the enormous mirror that takes up most of one wall of her dressing room. She _had_ been placed in Carlotta's usual room, which was a tad bit larger and decidedly frillier, but Madame Giry had entered shortly thereafter and insisted she be moved. No one was quite sure why, but angering the ballet mistress never does anyone any good, so they complied. Victoria has some notion as to why, but she refuses to let herself entertain the idea. Getting even more worked up than she already is won't help her singing.

She presently turns her attention back to her reflection, which is rather unrecognizable. She is wearing a lovely cream-colored gown with a laced bodice and full skirt while her wild curls have been arrayed into an ornate pattern by a number of jeweled pins. This was arguably the most painful part of the whole ordeal, but _did_ produce a splendid effect.

She spins lightly, admiring herself in the excessively large mirror.

Even Carlotta wouldn't need a mirror this big. I mean, you could hide a whole house behind it and no one would know!

But that, of course, is ridiculous…you can't _hide_ things behind mirrors.

Nevertheless, the idea of unseen things seems to remind her of something because her train of thought changes course abruptly.

I wonder if he'll be watching… 

Thinks our ingénue wistfully. But before the reader can ponder the possible meanings of such a phrase…

"Thinking about the _vicomte_?"

Victoria whips around, the glazed over look disappearing from her features, to see her _friend_ Meg Giry. However, every time the girl opens her mouth Victoria doubts the correctness of such a term in conjunction with the blonde ballerina.

She seems to be only mostly dressed for the show; her makeup and costume in place for the opening scene, but her hair still falling down her back. Clearly, something important has pulled her from her dressing room and she stares grinning at the older girl while her tutu still bobs from her expedited trip into the room.

Meanwhile, so taken aback as she is by the intrusion, Victoria cannot properly reply,

"Er…"

"Oh! You _are_, aren't you!" Meg seems fit to burst at the thought, "Well, in that case, you'll just _love_ the news I have!"

She pauses a moment, obviously expecting her companion to beg for a divulgence. When it becomes clear that such a request is not forthcoming she goes on, enthusiasm not dampened in the slightest.

"I was gathering my costume in the wings and I heard _Raoul_ speaking with another man, his brother the Comte I think…he's not _quite so_ handsome as his brother, but not _very_ ugly either,"

Again, she pauses for a moment; contemplating silently whether she would forgive a little homeliness in exchange for being _comtess_ rather than _vicomtess_. Still undecided, she continues,

"At any rate, I heard _him_ talking about a "lovely girl"!"

Victoria merely gazes, uncomprehending, at Meg.

"A "lovely girl" whom he _saw at rehearsal_!"

Perhaps she is being thick, but, as her thoughts are still rather preoccupied with what she'd been contemplating before being interrupted, she does not understand.

"Honestly, Victoria! He was surely talking about _you_! This means he really _did_ catch sight of you this morning! He just couldn't stop talking about how pretty _she_ was…Oh, Victoria! You're just so _lucky_!"

Evidently, speaking in such an overly effected manner is taxing on one's strength because with that Meg falls onto the nearby chaise lounge and dissolves into a fit of ecstatic giggles.

Contrary to what her giggle-ridden friend may be thinking, Victoria is anything but thrilled with such news. She has, in fact, been hoping against hope that said vicomte would _not_ remember her. However, she should have expected to be disappointed. If Raoul had anything, it was a fine memory for people…annoyingly fine. He could tell you which diplomat had once arrived at a function in the same suit as he had worn to the previous ball by looking only at the backs of their heads. Yes, she should have known he would recognize her.

_He can't possibly still be stuck on the idea that I…no. Even _he's_ not that ridiculous. He's had years and years to think about it. There's no way he can still be convincing himself that I'm "secretly" in love with him!_

In reality, she really has no reason to be worrying herself. Raoul was not, in fact, talking about Victoria, as Meg would have known had she not bolted for her friend's new dressing room after the phrase "lovely lady" met her ears. He had not even been discussing a woman of his _own_ interest. It had been Philippe who had sought out his brother to ask him if he had seen the star ballerina Sorelli during his visit to the rehearsal. Raoul had replied that he had, and that she seemed to be a "lovely lady" just as his brother always said. As you may or may not care to know, Comte Philippe de Chagny is rather in love with La Sorelli. Not interested? Well, I'm not surprised. No one really cares about Phillipe, even if he _is_ the comte. Being the ugly brother (even the richer ugly brother) means, while you may play a rather large role in the book, when it comes time to adapt it for the stage you're just not _important_ enough…and they end up cutting you out and making it look like the little brother can tie his own shoes.

In any case, Victoria clearly has no need to be fretting as much as she is. However, as she has no way of knowing this, she continues to worry while Meg continues to jabber. She gets as far as talking about what she'll wear to their wedding before…

"Victoria! Come, we begin in five minutes," the ballet mistress enters in a flurry and takes the bedecked prima donna by the arm. Then, realizing they are not alone in the room, rounds on her daughter, "And you! What do you think you are doing lying about? And only half ready?!?" Unwilling to feel the wrath of a stressed ballet mistress, Meg is on her feat and out of the room before her mother finishes her remarks.

As she is whisked from the dressing room Victoria has just enough time to gaze once more at her reflection in the grandiose mirror.

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Moments later Victoria is standing in the wings, seriously thinking about how much easier it would be to have been born without vocal chords. In that case she could have simply lived her days at the Opera as a dancer. She is not, perhaps, the most graceful of girls, but she could get along just fine skipping about with the other ballet rats. You can't really blame her for such cynicism. After hours of being tended to by countless people, she has suddenly been left quite alone with an audience of hundreds.

When her cue does finally come Victoria finds her limbs to be rather uncooperative.

"Go!" hisses one of the stagehands, pushing her slightly.

The spotlight glares at her from center stage and still she cannot will herself to step into it.

Oh no, they're all waiting. They're all watching me! If I don't go out soon they'll think I'm terrible…but I might be terrible anyway! My voice will never work right, not out there! Even if it does…I might trip on my way to my mark!

But, just as she feels she will surely run to her dressing room in hysterics, the soprano hears what vaguely sounds like her name being sung, sung as one quiet but clear note. She cannot place where it is coming from, perhaps within her own head, but it is there and the voice is one that is familiar to her. Imagined or not, the mysterious whisper seems to renew her resolve and she glides confidently into the midst of the "moonlit" scene.

Once again, her fears were quite unfounded. To be truthful, most of Victoria's ceaseless worrying ends with such a realization…but that's beside the point. Her voice is beautiful, arguably the most beautiful ever heard within the famous Opera Populaire. The entire crowd is understandably entranced…well almost the entire crowd.

Raoul de Chagny, from his comfortable seat in Box 5, had started dozing in the second scene. At first his brother had attempted to keep him awake through repeated applications of boot to shin, but to no avail. He was, of course, only drowsy due to the immense amount of work involved with being the youngest son of the Comte de Chagny. Living off of one's inheritance is no easy matter. You have to be sure you don't accidentally renovate your three separate flats with the money you used to bet on the horse races. Not to mention all the balls and parties you have to attend. Even walking down the street is taxing, it's not easy being watched and admired at all times. You have to know exactly when to smile, wave, and flip your long, shiny hair. Yes, being a nobleman is certainly tiring, and a warm and dark Opera House is like an invitation to dose off when one is so exceedingly exhausted.

As Victoria sings so splendidly, Philippe gives another firm kick to his brother's leg. A performance like this will certainly be the talk of Paris for days to come, it would behoove Raoul to remember he was in attendance. This kick came in perfect time with the crescendo of the song and the sharp pain coupled with the noise was enough to rouse the younger man. Still dazed, he leans over the side of the box to see what is happening below that is so loud. His eyes fix upon the new prima donna. Even from this distance his aforementioned memory for faces is perfectly capable to recognize his childhood playmate. Completely oblivious to the fact that they are still in the middle of the scene he jumps from his seat clapping frantically,

"Bravo!"

Both his brother and the new managers seize various parts of his waistcoat and pull him back into a seated position.

His fatigue miraculously gone, the Vicomte pays rapt attention to the remainder of the performance. While the plot of the play is still entirely lost to him, he fully comprehends the new beauty and talent that the years have granted to his sweetheart.

Before the last note of the finale has finished resonating through the theater Raoul is on his feet and headed towards the dressing rooms with but one thought in his head.

Victoria's fears may have been unfounded earlier in the evening, but now they ring all too true.

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Hmmm, I'm not sure…how do you like it? I don't think the humor translated quite as well into this chapter and I had_ alot_ of trouble keeping it in the present tense.

Just as a note, I absolutely can't sing! I do audition for every musical in my area…but I only ever get supporting roles. Altos just don't have too much respect in the theater world ((sighs)).

Anywho, I _might _be able to get another chapter or so up this week as it is vacation. However, I make no guarantees. D I hope you don't hate me too much for writing so slowly! Please read and review!!

Your Obedient Authoress,

M.E.


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